Was it my fault he’d left his flipping clipboard in the Tilly? No wonder Jamie couldn’t stand him.

It was dark when I was let go that evening. All day folk ran about like mad things, railway officials came and went, and RAF officials blethered and shouted at one another. Someone else took the Tilly away overnight, full of ironmongery, and I got sent home on my bicycle. Jamie dashed out as I was leaning over the front wheel to make sure the lamp was properly dimmed, as Phyllis had told me off more than once for riding home with a light showing, and I’d had enough telling off that day from Cromwell without Phyllis joining in. In any case after seeing that hole in the railway, I didn’t want to let the Jerries know where I was.

“It’s hard work catching you alone,” Jamie said breathlessly. “Here—it’s another German message. There’s a sweet spot in the sky just east of Aberdeen where we seem to get signals straight from Norway. It’s clearer at night, but we had an excuse for haring about this afternoon because of that raid. Wasn’t it lucky! No one was hurt, and now we’re onto the Jerries again! I say, Ellen, if Louisa works out this message, can you ask her to leave it somewhere I can collect it myself? She could hide it in the same record album, and pop a penny among the wishing coins to let me know it’s there, and no one would notice. Just on the outside edge, where I put mine. I’ll know to look for it.”

“You and all your folk are a clan of lying, crooked schemers,” I told him, straightening the front wheel of my bicycle. “And to think the McEwens get called sleekit, just for being Travellers!”

He laughed. “You’re an angel. Listen, I’ve told Silver about this, so he could deliver the cipher machine key and the leaflets and tip-off message to Cromwell—it seemed easier to pretend Silver found it in the Limehouse bar than for me to get in another battle with the Old Roundhead. So Silver’s safe if you need to pass anything on through him, but don’t let Phyllis know what’s going on. She’s a lovely lass, but Cromwell’s got her in his pocket.”

“I’d be mad,” I said, warmed to the heart by his laughter and his hope.

I so wanted another win for him.

I shot off into the dark on my bicycle with his scrap of paper in my breast pocket.

Louisa: